


interconnected strand to strand

by Hirikka



Series: speak of destiny as if it was fixed [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Witcher - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Ambiguous Immortality, Canon Divergence - Jaskier | Dandelion and Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Find Each Other First, Canon-Typical Violence, Daemon Feels, Daemon Prejudice, Daemon Separation, Daemon Touching, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Same-Sex Daemons, Timeline What Timeline, a little daemon au. as a treat, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/pseuds/Hirikka
Summary: Turns out Jaskier isn't the first person who loves Geralt to be driven away by the witcher.After The Mountain, Jaskier is found by Geralt's daemon. They adopt each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: speak of destiny as if it was fixed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675786
Comments: 325
Kudos: 1834





	1. naught can change this parting harsh

Witchers didn’t have daemons. They weren’t fully human, they didn’t feel, they didn’t have daemons. All the rumors and stories stated this as fact.  
Of course it was only half correct. Witchers started out as humans, so they had daemons; if they didn’t, they would have died just as surely as any other human.

**

The Trial of the Desert was one of the final and most difficult hurdles that a witcher trainee faced. The barren scar through the earth that no daemon could pass through was one of the witchers’ most closely guarded secrets. In the early days, they had tried to cut away the daemons completely, sure that would create fearless warriors, but those who survived were listless and too empty to be allowed to travel on their own. Too likely to fall prey to the creatures they hunted. Now the bond was stretched, the daemon abandoned on one end of the desert while the witcher crossed alone. Once completed, the witcher could travel any distance from their daemon. The bond was weakened, and it was easy enough to send the new witcher out, while the daemon was kept at the school. Monsters were just as likely to target a vulnerable daemon as they were to attack the witcher. It wasn’t worth the risk.

**

Geralt had been gone for many years when Lilura found her chance to escape. It wasn’t her first attempt; even though the bond was weakened, she could still feel the pain that Geralt suffered, and she needed to get to him.

**

It took months of travel for her to find him. He had changed in the years, bigger and stronger, more settled into his skin. She had changed as well, settling the day that he left. She approached cautiously, creeping through the undergrowth until she was just outside the circle of firelight, close enough to catch the scent of her other half. Elated, she stepped forward; Geralt looked up with a start, staring with a blank lack of recognition.

“Geralt,” Lilura whispered.

Geralt blinked, golden eyes meeting her own. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Lilura took another step closer. “Yes, I should. We are meant to be together.”

“No,” Geralt snarled. “You need to leave.”

“Nobody is going to make me leave. We can travel together,” Lilura started, but Geralt cut her off.

“I don’t want you.” His voice had lost its venom, but the wave of hatred that radiated through the bond caused Lilura to stumble away. Geralt turned, refusing to look at her.

Lilura felt the pain of the trial anew, a feeling like her heart was being torn out.

**

Lilura didn’t leave, couldn’t. Even if she had been able to tear herself away, she wouldn’t have anywhere to go. She did stay out of his sight, keeping an eye on him from a distance until she became another part of the rumors that surrounded him, the white wolf.

It was many more years before anything changed. Blaviken was a nightmare; the vicious attack took Geralt by surprise. For once, Lilura couldn’t hang back and watch; she dove into the battle with a ferocity that rivaled the witcher on his best day. She had torn out the throats of two daemons before she felt the surprise and confusion that radiated from Geralt when he noticed her. She didn’t have time to acknowledge that, leaping to catch the sparrow daemon of the man attempting to sneak up on her witcher.

As soon as the battle finished, she slipped back into the woods, not giving Geralt time to say anything.

She stayed closer than usual after that, as rumors of the Butcher of Blaviken started to circulate and Geralt was met with more hostility than usual. She was close enough that she knew Geralt had seen her a few times, but he never made any effort to reach out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Jaskier's ballad "Winter"  
> Wikipedia on [daemons](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A6mon_\(His_Dark_Materials\))  
> Posting two chapters today as this one is very short. This is my first multi-chapter fic in years but I have the rest of the fic plotted out so I'm hoping to post chapters about once a week after this.
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://courtingtrouble.tumblr.com/)  
> Thanks to [Row](https://onthewingsofwar.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this and letting me send you about a million messages.
> 
> Fic title is from Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman.


	2. hazard a guest on her path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mountain Jaskier finds a new traveling companion.

“It was really only a matter of time,” Jaskier muttered, kicking at the dirt in front of the pen. He looked up to find Roach giving him a frankly judgemental look.

“Is moping really going to help?” Solidago asked, the magpie ruffling his feathers, his gaze still focused on the path they had taken down the mountain.

“Well, it’s not going to hurt.” Jaskier offered a sugarcube to Roach. She took it and headbutted him affectionately.

“Anyway, my dear Roach, we must take our leave.” He pulled away reluctantly. “Try to take care of him.”

Roach nickered in what he supposed was agreement.

Jaskier adjusted the strap on his pack and started walking along the path. Solidago finally turned, flying after him to land on his shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Jaskier sighed. “Maybe we will go to the coast.”

“We should go to Cintra.”

“What good would that do us, Sol? He doesn’t want to see us again, and if he has a shred of sense, that’s where he’ll be heading next.”

Sol cocked his head to the side. “Since when does he have any sense?”

Jaskier scoffed but didn’t respond. He just trudged on, alone, for once without a clear goal in mind but determined to put more space between himself and the mountain before setting up camp.

The quiet of the evening was split by a lone howl, low and mournful.

“Poetic,” Sol chirped before flying up ahead, as far as the bond would allow.

Jaskier watched his daemon go; they had not fought in years, and while this wasn’t really a fight per se, Sol had wanted to stay, wanted to fight back against the cruel words that Geralt had hurled at them and try to get him to see sense. Jaskier had just wanted to get out with what was left of his heart intact.

**

It was several hours before they decided to stop, moving off the path and setting up a camp. Jaskier started a fire while Sol sorted through their meager provisions. They were quiet, somber and lost in thought. Which is why they heard the quiet approach of feet. Jaskier hissed in frustration, pulling out his dagger. Of course danger would come the first night he had been on his own.

After a moment, a man stepped into the firelight, flanked by another two - all carried swords, unsheathed. He didn’t recognize any of them, couldn’t think why they would be after him.

“Well hello,” Jaskier tried to sound cheerful and welcoming, “how can I help you fine gentlemen?”

“Where’s your witcher?” the largest one asked.

Ah, so that was why.

“I don’t know!” Jaskier said, trying to keep his voice steady even as the other two men started to circle around him.

The leader of the bandits scoffed, “Well, maybe you’ll be more willing to talk after Advima breaks your pretty little bird.” His daemon, a large dog of some kind, moved in a flash, leaping up to try to grab Sol as he sprung into the air to get out of range.

Before the dog could make a second attack, it was struck by a blur of white fur. A moment later and the dog daemon was dissolving into golden dust, the leader of the men collapsing with a cut-off cry.

The white shape moved closer: a huge wolf. A daemon. Jaskier looked around to see the human who must have come with her but didn’t see anyone else. The wolf snarled at the other two men who were staring wide-eyed at their dead leader.

“Leave now, and I’ll let you live,” the wolf growled, taking a step towards the men that had them both yelping in fright and scrambling into the woods.

Sol swooped down, landing on Jaskier’s shoulder trembling slightly. “She’s alone, Jas. There’s no one else here.”

The wolf turned back to look at them, satisfied that the men were not going to come back. Her golden eyes were achingly familiar.

Jaskier slumped onto the ground, shaking as the adrenaline wore off. Sol fluttered down, hopping slightly closer to the wolf.

“I’m Solidago; that’s Jaskier. Thank you for helping us.”

“I’m Lilura.” She paused for a moment. “I should probably go.”

She sounded almost sad about it, so Jaskier spoke before thinking, “You can stay if you would like.”

Lilura looked started for a moment but nodded, moving closer to the fire and laying down.

Jaskier smiled at her awkward attempts to look relaxed, something so familiar in the careful way she moved. Normal custom was that a person shouldn’t directly address another’s daemon unless they were close, but nothing about this situation was normal, so he wasn’t particularly concerned.

“How did you find us?” Sol asked. “We aren’t really close to, well, anything.”

The wolf’s ears flattened, and she looked away. “I was following you. I wanted to make sure you were unharmed. Geralt has made a habit of driving away those closest to him.”  
Sol crooned, a low comforting noise - they had suspected from the moment they had seen her whose daemon she was.

“He sent you away? Why?”

Lilura huffed, laying her head on her paws. “Witchers aren’t meant to have daemons. We are separated as part of the trails. It’s supposed to make the Path easier; we stay behind, and eventually, the bond is weakened so much that the daemons just sort of... fade.”

Jaskier grimaced; it sounded like the worst kind of fate - for the daemons and for the witchers.

Sol had finally made it close enough to the wolf to start running his beak through her fur, preening the way he did to comfort Jaskier. Lilura closed her eyes, leaning into the touch.

“I escaped, traveled until I found Geralt. I was so happy to have found him again; I could have helped him, but he didn’t want that. So he told me to leave.”

“He doesn’t want to need anyone,” Jaskier said, voice soft.

“Exactly. He’s a stubborn idiot about it, but I wasn’t going to go back and just let myself fade. I deserve more than that, and so does he, even if he’s not willing to admit it.”

Jaskier smiled at her. “Well, I’m extremely glad you decided to stick around - and not just because you saved us tonight.”

Lilura’s tail wagged slightly. Jaskier grinned at her.

“You can come with us!” Sol chirped.

Lilura turned her attention to the other daemon, but didn’t respond for a moment.

“If you want a break from following Geralt at a distance,” Sol continued, “you can stay with us.”

Jaskier ran his fingers over Sol’s feathers and nodded. “We won’t send you away if you want some company for a while.”

Lilura laid her head on her paws, looking at the bard and his daemon. “Alright. For a while. It would be a nice change to have someone who isn’t angry to see me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Wild Woman" by the Ballroom Thieves 
> 
> Jaskier having a male daemon just sort of felt right for this? There is possibly a prequel story about younger Jaskier and Solidago that I might write after I finish the main story. 
> 
> Daemon key:  
> Solidago is a black-billed magpie  
> Lilura is a white wolf


	3. space that’s in between every page every chord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finds himself with a new reputation as he travels south.

Jaskier had not _planned_ on ending up with a reputation as a warrior bard. As the _wolf_ bard, as people had taken to calling him. 

He hadn’t really been thinking the first time, when, outside of Toussaint, he had seen a group of refugees fighting against a band of Nilfgaardian soldiers and immediately jumped into the fight. He knew how to use his dagger, probably had a better chance than most of these people - farmers by the look of their makeshift weapons - and he felt like he had to help. 

Jaskier stumbled back from a dagger that came dangerously close to slitting his neck; before the Nilfgardian could take advantage of his stumbling, Lilura appeared between them with a low growl. Jaskier used the shock of her appearance to regain his footing, and he lunged back towards the man as Lilura charged his daemon. 

After that, the fight ended quickly; the few remaining soldiers fled into the woods when they realized this group was not the easy targets they had expected. 

“You and your daemon fought well; you have our thanks.” A burly man clapped Jaskier on the shoulder. “You are welcome to join us for the night.” 

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to Solidago, perched on a branch above him, and then down to Lilura, for once at a loss for words. Lilura seemed to sense his hesitation and moved to his side, wagging her tail. Sol sent a pulse of _reassurance_ through the bond between them; Jaskier could feel his slight amusement at the situation. 

With the encouragement of both daemons, Jaskier recovered, offering the man a smile. “Certainly. I appreciate the hospitality.”

The night passed in good company, everyone bolstered by their victory. Jaskier played long into the night, enjoying the lively audience.

**

Jaskier was enjoying a surprisingly fine meal at the small inn he had stayed at - his songs had been well received, and he had enough coin not to have to camp for the next leg of their journey. 

A man burst into the inn, looking around frantically. “Please I need help; my daughter was playing by the woods, and she hasn’t come back. We searched and couldn’t find her.”

The few other people in the tavern looked away; Jaskier had heard rumors that there was something in the woods - nothing serious enough yet to warrant them contacting a Witcher, but still folks were nervous.

Lilura nudged Jaskier’s leg. “I can track her.”

Jaskier sighed, wondering when he had become the kind of person who ran into danger rather than away from it. 

“The day you saw Geralt,” Solidago whispered, catching his thoughts. Jaskier glared at him for a moment before sighing, gesturing Sol out of his shadowy hiding spot to slip into the small bag that Jaskier had taken to carrying for moments when it would be too obvious that Sol belonged to him. 

“I can help,” Jaskier offered. His bag and lute were still in his room, but he had a silver dagger in his boot. 

“Thank you. I’m Virram. My daughter is Hania. Come, I’ll show you where we saw her last.”

Jaskier nodded, following Virram to a farm on the outskirts of the little town. Hania had been playing by a stream along the edge of a pasture.

“She should know not to go into the woods,” Virram said, wringing his hands, “but she’s prone to wandering.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jaskier said, trying to convey a confidence he didn’t really feel. 

“Oh, here, I have one of her toys.” Virram held out a well-loved cloth rabbit. “My Nivette doesn’t have a great sense of smell, but maybe?”

Jaskier nodded, taking the toy, holding it for Lilura to sniff. “Yeah, she’s great at tracking.” 

Lilura sniffed at the toy. “We should split up, cover more ground.” 

Varrim nodded in agreement, starting into the woods. 

Jaskier followed Lilura as she trotted along; she seemed confident, settling into a lope ranging ahead of Jaskier. As soon as they could no longer hear Varrim, Jaskier paused, allowing Solidago to hop out of the bag. The daemon ruffled his feathers before taking to the air to see if he could catch a glance of the child. 

“Shit,” Lilura yelped, “Jaskier we need to hurry!”

Jaskier ran to catch up. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s a fucking ghoul around,” Lilura growled.

Jaskier reached down, drawing his silver dagger. “Ok, ok. We can handle this. We can handle this, right?”

Solidago swooped down. “She’s still alive - managed to climb a tree to escape, but we need to go now!”

The three ran onwards, bursting into a clearing and immediately attracting the attention of the ghoul.

The girl, Hania, was clinging desperately to a branch just out of the ghouls' reach. Her daemon fluttered around her anxiously. 

The ghoul snarled, moving towards Jaskier. He cursed; he had forgotten how damned fast they could be. Lilura sprang forward, darting in to bite at the ghoul’s arms to distract it. Solidago joined in, diving at the creature. Ghouls wouldn’t target daemons - they could tell there wasn’t any flesh and blood to gain from them - but it couldn’t ignore the attacks. The distraction was enough for Jaskier to feel confident about approaching.

Jaskier stayed light on his feet, darting in and out to slash at the ghoul with the silver dagger, hoping to weaken the creature.

The ghoul grabbed his arm; Jaskier could feel sharp nails digging into his skin as it dragged him closer. He resisted for a moment and then stopped, using the momentum from the ghoul to get in close enough to stab it through the eye. The ghoul stumbled, dropped its grip, and finally collapsed. 

Jaskier fell to his knees. “I hated that.” 

Lilura pressed her nose into his shoulder. “You did well, pup.” 

Jaskier huffed a laugh, dragging himself to his feet. He turned to the girl. Her daemon had perched on her shoulder, and she was looking down towards him.

“Hania?” Jaskier walked closer to the tree. “I’m Jaskier. Your dad asked me to help find you. Are you hurt?”

Hania shook her head. “Is it safe?” her daemon asked.

Jaskier looked to Lilura who nodded. “It is safe; if you want to come down, we can bring you home.”

Hania smiled tentatively before scrambling down the tree and then throwing her arms around Jaskier’s leg. He smiled at the girl, scooping her up into his arms. 

“It was very clever to hide up in the tree,” Jaskier told her, smiling brightly. He waited for a moment as Lilura picked up his knife. Solidago flew above them, trying not to draw attention to himself.

They were halfway back to the farm when they came across Varrim. 

“Dad!” Hania shouted, jumping out of Jaskier’s arms, “there was a monster!”

Varrim kneeled down to hug his daughter, while she kept up a steady stream of talking, both her and her daemon speaking over each other to try to say what had happened. 

Jaskier took his dagger back from Lilura, and, while they were distracted, Sol darted down from a tree and back into his hiding spot. 

After a few moments, Varrim looked up at Jaskier. “Was there really a monster?”

Jaskier grimaced, nodding. “A ghoul. Seemed to be just one though, and I managed to kill it, so you shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Varrim seemed stunned for a moment, adjusting his grip so that he could hold Hania in one arm and use the other to shake Jaskier’s hand. “Thank you, I owe you a great debt.”

“It’s alright.” Jaskier smiled. It was such a stark difference from the way people treated Geralt when he had come back from a hunt, usually against something much more dangerous than a single ghoul.

“Please, there must be something we can give you.”

“Law of surprise,” Sol suggested from his hiding place

“Don’t even,” Jaskier scoffed. Lilura huffed in amusement.

“What?” Varrim asked.

“Ah, sorry, talking to myself.”

Varrim frowned, still looking concerned.

“It’s a bard thing,” Jaskier said, waving a hand dismissively and then glancing towards the farm. His eyes landed on the small herd of horses grazing in a pasture. “What about a horse?”

“Of course!” Varrim grinned, seeming relieved - Jaskier wondered idly what he had been expecting Jaskier to ask for.

Varrim offered Jaskier his pick. Hania took his hand, pulling him out into the field and rambling about the virtues and vices of each horse. When they were closer, a white horse approached, clearly angling for treats. Jaskier smiled, petting his velvety nose.

“That one's a bit lazy, but he’s not easily spooked,” Varrim told him. 

The horse snorted, leaning further into Jaskier’s touch.

Jaskier smiled. “He's perfect.”

**

Word traveled surprisingly quickly; soon, he was being recognized as the Wolf Bard more often than he wasn’t. 

“How mad do you think that’ll make Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he ambled through the market.

Lilura snorted. “It’s going to drive him crazy.”

Jaskier paused at a stall selling hats. Picking up a large floppy bonnet with black and white feathers on the side, he asked, “What do you think of this?”

“I think you’d look like an idiot.”

Jaskier gasped in mock affront, “How dare you?”

Lilura just grinned up at him.

“You’re as bad as Geralt. No appreciation at all for fashion.”

“I think it would make you look very dashing,” the woman minding the stall said.

“Why thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said with a grin, pulling out a coin to purchase the hat.

“She only said that to make a sale,” Lilura pointed out after Jaskier sent a second glance back towards the lovely merchant.

“Oh shush.” Jaskier nudged her with his hip. “Besides, this should allow Sol to stay close without getting jostled around as much.” 

“At least he won’t have to be seen with you while you are wearing it,” Lilura teased.

“That is extremely hurtful, but”-he put the hat on, adjusting it carefully-“I won’t let your poor taste stop me.”

Lilura huffed a laugh, and Jaskier grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devil. I've been listening to this album basically non-stop, it's so good yall.
> 
> The hat is absolutely the one that they cut from the show (does he try to convince Solidago that it's the Correct Choice because the black and white feathers match him? Absolutely)
> 
> Thank you for all the comments & kudos! I really appreciate all of them!


	4. the song you know's begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilura sets them on a new path.

“Jaskier, Solidago. I need to ask for your aid.” 

They both looked up at Lilura; she looked tense. Nervous.

“With what?” Sol asked.

“I want to fetch the child surprise. Take her somewhere safe.”

Jaskier tilted his head, considering; he wasn’t entirely surprised - she had seemed on edge since they had heard that Nilfgard was heading towards the city - but he had been expecting her to leave to find Geralt. Not to ask them to help her.

“Where would you take her?” Sol asked.

“Oxenfurt!” Jaskier exclaimed. “We can take her to Oxenfurt and claim scholastic sanctuary.”

“Oh! Yes!” Sol flapped his wings. “That might actually work.”

“Convincing Calanthe will still be a struggle,” Jaskier interjected.

Sol shifted his wings. “Of course it will be, but even she can be made to see reason. Or you could just refuse to stop singing until she agrees.”

Jaskier looked over to Lilura to see what she thought of the plan only to see her watching them both with a look of shock. “Lil?” Jaskier called softly.

Lilura let out a huff. “I honestly didn't think you would want to help. I should have known better.”

“You should have,” Sol agreed, flying over to perch on her back. “We earned our reputation following a white wolf into danger; not about to change that now.”

**

Jaskier strummed his lute half-heartedly. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Solidago tilted his head; “What?”

“Going to Cintra, trying to get Ciri.”

“I don’t think it’s the worst idea we’ve ever had.” 

“Oh good.” Jaskier snorted, setting the lute aside. “I suppose if Geralt really does go looking for Ciri, he’ll be able to find us anyway.”

Sol hopped over, settling on his knee. “Is that why you are having doubts? Worried about seeing Geralt again?”

Jaskier glared at him, although the effect was lessened by the way his hands shook slightly on Sol’s feathers. “You know I am.”

“I’ve offered before, and I’ll offer again: If we see him and he’s an ass, I can peck his eyes out.”

“You are a ridiculous creature; that would be absolutely too gross for you, and you know it.”

“Says you.” Sol puffed up his feathers, trying to look as large and fierce as he could.

Jaskier snorted, and they both fell silent for a moment, listening to the crackle of the fire. “Do you mind?” 

“Mind what?” Sol asked.

Jaskier waved a hand between them. “Pretending that Lilura is mine, having to hide all the time? It’s only going to be worse if we have to stay in Cintra for any time. Or if we manage to take Ciri to Oxenfurt…”

“No, I know you are mine, and I am yours. It doesn’t matter if others don’t know.” He hopped onto Jaskier’s shoulder, tugging on a lock of hair. “Besides, Lilura is  _ yours _ . She’s mine too; she’s part of our flock.”

“How are you always so reasonable?” 

“One of us has to be.”

**

“The bard is back,” a guard informed them. 

Calanthe just rolled her eyes, keeping her attention on the reports their spies had managed to gather about the approaching army. 

“He’s welcome to stay and play if he wishes,” Eist told the guard. Even if Calanthe was not a fan, it would do the court some good to have a break from the tension. It would be good for Ciri, too.

The guard hesitated for a moment. “There’s, um, there’s something else.”

“What?” Eist prompted.

“His”-the guard hesitated, and Eist noticed that the man’s daemon was almost trembling-“his daemon’s  _ changed. _ ”

This got Calanthe’s attention. “What?”

“He had a bird before?” 

Eist and Calanthe both nodded.

“He’s got a wolf now.”

Calanthe narrowed her eyes. “Thank you. That will be all.” 

The guard nodded, leaving the room swiftly.

“That’s certainly odd,” Eist muttered, scooping his otter daemon into his arms. “I wonder what happened?”

Calanthe put aside her papers. “The last time he left the court, he mentioned his plans to find and travel with that damned witcher again.”

“You think it was a monster attack?” Eist asked.

“No,” Calanthe said, “I think the witcher broke the fool’s heart.” 

At her side, Atalanta stood up with a languid stretch. “I would very much like to see this.”

Calanthe nodded in agreement, and the two left the room.

Eist exchanged a glance with his own daemon before following, wondering if that could really be the truth of the situation. 

**

“Let me take her to Oxenfurt.” 

Calanthe whirled around, reaching for her sword - she hadn’t noticed the bard approaching. He had been in the castle for several days, performing the evenings, but there had clearly been something else on his mind. 

“What?” Eist asked.

“We can claim scholastic sanctuary; she’ll be safe until you defeat Nilfgard,” Jaskier offered. “I have no claim to her, so nothing will stop you from retrieving her once it is safe.”

Calanthe paused, considering. She wondered once again what the witcher had done to hurt the bard so badly that his very soul had changed. 

“It’s not a bad idea,” Atalanta murmured; the lioness was watching the bard’s wolf appraisingly. “I think he can keep her safe.”

“We can keep her safe,” Calanthe hissed, but she had heard the rumors of the terrible powers Nilfgard was wielding. She knew there was a chance that she couldn’t keep Ciri safe, and it was not a thought she wanted to dwell on.

Atalanta just narrowed her eyes, posture relaxed but Calanthe could see the tension in the way her tail flicked.

“Fine,” she sighed, then louder, “You swear to keep her safe? To bring her home once the danger has passed?”

Jaskier’s wolf almost slumped in relief as the bard nodded. “I do, I swear.”

Calanthe nodded once and turned to a guard. “See that they have supplies packed for the road,” she ordered and then left. She needed to find Ciri, there were things she needed to say because despite her surety in her own abilities there was a  _ chance  _ that this was the end of her own story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Not Yet/Love Run" by The Amazing Devil
> 
> I wasn't originally planning to do such a big canon divergence, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so. Hope yall enjoy.
> 
> Daemon key for this chapter:  
> Calanthe's Atalanta is a [lioness](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/58a37c4dd2b857e5fe098b77/1488656491629-PLVK74VTM1VOS2R8HLH1/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kIg_2AoWKMceS7tkoFwRw_UUqsxRUqqbr1mOJYKfIPR7LoDQ9mXPOjoJoqy81S2I8N_N4V1vUb5AoIIIbLZhVYy7Mythp_T-mtop-vrsUOmeInPi9iDjx9w8K4ZfjXt2dnx2gTx2tYk9xUwyK_2KcCK5s5eouzzW7oZK10qJjFcgMW9u6oXQZQicHHG1WEE6fg/42ItopA.jpg?format=2500w)  
> Eist's daemon is an [Eurasian otter](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurasian_otter#/media/File:Fischotter,_Lutra_Lutra.JPG)


	5. thunder in your lungs begins to rumble at the world

Ciri adjusted her cloak with trembling hands. It was a dark green, spun from a rougher material than she was used to. Artaxias at her side shifted from the form of a lion cub into a starling, fluttering up to perch on her shoulder.

“We need to be brave,” Art whispered.

Ciri nodded but didn’t respond.

“Besides, we like Julian, even if he is different now.” 

They had not spent very long with the bard since he had returned, but the white wolf at his side was strange and made them nervous. There were legends and songs that told of a daemon changing in rare, dramatic, often terrible circumstances after they had settled, but it was hard to imagine something like that happening to someone she knew, to  _ Julian  _ who had always seemed so bright and carefree. 

Ciri nodded again. “You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “I am the lion cub of Cintra, and I will be brave.”

**

They were all quiet as they left the city in the early morning. Ciri saw Jaskier yawn a few times, clearly not used to being up so early, but the wolf at his side was bright-eyed and alert. Ciri hadn’t heard him speak, which seemed strange; Solidago used to talk all the time.

After a few hours of mostly silent travel, Jaskier seemed more awake, and when they reached a brook, he stopped his horse.

“We’ll take a break here, let the horses rest, and”-he exchanged a glance with his daemon; the wolf dipped his head-“I am afraid I have not been completely honest.”

At once, Ciri was tense; Art jumped from her shoulder onto the ground, transforming into a lion as he went in case they needed to fight. 

“Oh, no no.” Jaskier held up both his hands to show he was unarmed. “It’s nothing bad, just a bit of subterfuge.”

Ciri was silent, watching, ready to urge her horse into a run if she needed to. Then Jaskier reached up, removing his hat to reveal-

“Solidago?”

The magpie chirped, swooping down to land next to Artaxias who transformed into a starling in response - the two fluttering together excitedly. Art had always been fond of Sol.

“How?” Ciri asked, tearing her gaze away from the birds and looking over at the wolf daemon.

“My lady, I would like to introduce you to Lilura,” Jaskier said, smiling at the wolf and then walking over to help Ciri dismount.

“I am sorry we had to lie to you,” the wolf - Lilura - said.

“Who are you?” Ciri asked. Art had stopped playing with Sol and was also watching Lilura.

Lilura looked to Jaskier before responding. Ciri watched curiously. The way Lilura behaved, she really did seem to be Jaskier’s; they were comfortable together in a way she had never seen anyone be with another's daemon. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly who really was Lilura’s other half, and how they felt about this closeness.

“How much did your grandmother tell you about Geralt of Rivia?” Lilura asked after a moment.

Ciri shrugged. “Not much. She said he was a witcher, that he had been at my parent’s betrothal.  _ She  _ didn’t tell me, but I heard rumors that he had claimed the law of surprise from my father. That he had claimed  _ me.  _ Grandmother tried to keep me from hearing those rumors, so I suppose they were true. Why?”

“I’m Geralt’s daemon.” 

Ciri frowned. “I thought witchers didn’t have daemons?”

Lilura visibly tensed at that, and Jaskier spoke instead, “The- the trials they go through to become witchers. It stretches the bond, similar to mages, so they can travel long distances apart.” 

Ciri watched as Solidago hopped over to Lilura to offer reassurance and comfort.

“Unlike mages, witchers are meant to travel without their daemons. It's supposed to be safer and allow them to better focus on their Path.”

Art flew over to Ciri, clearly distressed by the thought, transforming into a cat and snuggling into her arms. She was having trouble imagining what it would be like to have Art torn away from her like that. To have to travel the world without him. It sounded awful.

“Anyway, you were right; the rumors of Geralt claiming you as Child Surprise were true. Your grandmother wasn’t pleased, but Geralt wasn’t prepared to care for a child anyway. He swore to leave you to your family.” Jaskier shrugged.

“Whatever he thinks, he is responsible for your safety. We are,” Lilura said. “I was worried when I heard about Nilfgaard. I didn’t want to think about you in the middle of a war, pup. I had already found Jaskier, so I asked him and Solidago to help me find you and make sure you were safe.” She moved closer to where Ciri was sitting, reaching out to touch her nose to Art’s head. He let out a startled purr at the touch. “We may not have met before, but you are  _ pack _ , and I want to see you safe and happy.”

Art reached out, giving the wolf’s snout a tentative lick. Ciri couldn’t help giggling at the startled expression on Lilura’s face. 

**

Lilura trotted up to the road. “We’re being followed. Look up.”

Jaskier looked upwards, shading his eyes against the sun. A huge bird was drifting in lazy circles above them. It seemed to notice their attention, veering slightly lower for a moment - long enough for them to see the flash of red feathers on its neck before circling higher again. Solidago let out a raspy [cry](https://www.audubon.org/sites/default/files/BLBIMA_3.mobbingcalls_NDle_1.mp3?uuid=5e7a51c9d3d4f) of irritation as he recognized the vulture daemon. 

Ciri looked back from where she had been riding slightly ahead of them. “Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing to worry about darling.” Jaskier smiled, doing his best to convince Pegasus to pick up the pace. “We’ll reach White Bridge soon. We can stay there for the night.”

Ciri brightened at the knowledge that they would be stopping soon; they had been riding hard for the past two days - trying to put some distance between themselves and approaching armies. 

Jaskier looked up again, but the daemon was gone.

**

Jaskier was talking to the tavern keeper, securing a room and food for the night, when Ciri threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his stomach and pressing her face into his side. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her and then looked to Lilura for an explanation. 

“Cintra,” Lilura said.

Jaskier looked around, suddenly paying attention to the chatter around them -  _ Cintra has fallen.  _ He turned back to the innkeeper, forcing a soft smile. “She had a cousin in the city.”

The woman nodded. The inn was clearly full of refugees, so she was more than used to this. 

He collected the keys to the room and bundled Ciri into the room and into bed. Lilura wrapped herself around Artaxias, and Jaskier held Ciri while she cried. He hummed and offered reassurances, trying to keep his own voice steady. Solidago had taken a post near the door, watchful and wary. 

After what felt like ages, Ciri fell asleep, clearly exhausted. Jaskier carefully extricated himself.

“I’m going to see if I can find out more,” Jaskier whispered.

Lilura looked torn - knowing she needed to go with Jaskier to keep up appearances but reluctant to leave Ciri. 

“This room is close enough to the tavern,” Solidago announced. “If you stay towards the back, I can wait here. It shouldn’t be too far for us, Jask.”

Jaskier nodded, pressing a kiss to Ciri’s head. “Thank you, Sol. Let me know if she wakes?”

“Of course.” Sol nodded, settling himself next to Art as Lilura stood. 

They didn’t want to draw attention, so Jaskier ordered food and took a seat in the type of darkened corner Geralt would have chosen. He felt a pang at the thought. If Cintra had fallen, Geralt would be the closest person to family that Cirilla had left.

He was close enough to hear the discussion around him - Cintra had tried to resist but had fallen. The city had burned. Eist and Calanthe were dead. The princess was missing. Nilfgaard was searching for the princess.

“Fuck,” Jaskier muttered when he heard that last part. “We’ll camp for the rest of the journey; it should only be a few more days until we reach the city.”

Lilura nodded, still mostly focused on the discussions around them.

“Pardon the interruption, but can I sit for a moment?” It was the woman who ran the inn, peering at Jaskier with concern.

“Of course.” Jaskier smiled, trying to seem calm.

“My name is Lenna.” 

“Julian.”

“Julian, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been hearing rumors lately about Nilfgaard, and well, I couldn’t help but notice your daughter shares the coloring of Cintra’s princess. Around the same age, too.”

“I suppose.” Jaskier tried to maintain a sense of calm.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but Nilfgaard is apparently hunting the girl. I don’t know where you are headed, but I wanted to offer you this.” She held out a small dark brown brick. “It’s for hair dyeing. It might be safer on the road if she didn’t look quite so much like the poor princess.”

Jaskier watched her warily, but he reached out to take the hair dye.

“I have a daughter of my own around her age; I couldn’t stand the idea of her being hurt because she matches the description of someone else.” Lenna added, “You can never be too careful, not with all that's going on these days.”

“Thank you, Lenna.” Jaskier offered her a more genuine smile. Lenna nodded and patted him on the shoulder before heading back to the bar. 

After she was gone, Jaskier leaned back in his seat, watching the room around them. “We should still go to Oxenfurt, right?”

Lilura nodded. “It’s the safest option. Once we are there, we can think about what to do next.”

Jaskier nodded, settling back into his seat to listen to the talk around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Welly Boots" by The Amazing Devil
> 
> Black-billed magpies make some excellent noises when they are mad/annoyed (the one linked in the fic is their mobbing call).


	6. fictions we took to mean fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flock reach Oxenfurt.

The dye Lenna had provided turned Ciri’s hair to almost the same color as Jaskier’s. He had braided it back before they set out. Ciri had been quiet, which he had expected, but some of the tension drained from her shoulders as Jaskier gently combed her hair back. He was glad for that because he wasn’t really sure what words of comfort to offer to a child who had lost the last of her family. He was not at all prepared, but he was determined to do his best to help in whatever way he could.

In this case, it meant singing the most absurd songs he could think of. Ciri didn’t react much, but after the second song, Artaxias left his hiding spot in Ciri’s cloak to fly alongside Solidago. Solidago was pleased, swooping about to challenge Art’s flying ability, although he was less pleased when the younger daemon transformed into a quick little Merlin hawk and was able to easily outpace him. Sol’s outraged squawking did cause Ciri to crack a smile, and Jaskier felt some of the tension surrounding them ease.

“Would you tell me about him?” Ciri asked, slowing her horse to match Pegasus’ ambling pace. They didn’t make great time, but it did allow Jaskier to play easily. 

Jaskier took a deep, steadying breath. “Of course.” He pulled out his lute, smiled at Ciri, and strummed the opening notes to “ _ Toss a Coin. _ ”

Lilura watched them for a moment before disappearing into the woods to scout ahead, not returning until the late afternoon when they arrived at Oxenfurt. She wasn’t interested in hearing tales of the man who had abandoned them.

**

Oxenfurt was familiar in a way that was a relief after the tension of the past few days. In the past, he had found the easy routine stifling, but with Ciri in tow, Jaskier felt the tension drain from his shoulders. They would be safe here, at least for a time. The lie about Ciri being Jaskier’s daughter, her mother killed when Nilfaard’s army sacked Hochebuz, was almost too easy. It spun a protective web around Ciri: the grieving child now being taken care of by a father who had been largely absent in her life before this. Few of the scholars had the social grace to comfort a child, so she was largely left alone. 

As for Jaskier, he knew at least a dozen different rumors were circulating about him - his return to Oxenfurt, his supposedly changed daemon, his willingness to take on the care of a child - but nobody was willing to ask outright. 

The school was more than happy to offer Jaskier a teaching position along with a suite of rooms. It turned out that being something of a celebrity gave him quite a bit of leverage.

For the first few days, Ciri followed Jaskier to his lectures, quiet and subdued and clearly not wanting to be alone. While she was quiet during the days, when they returned to their rooms, she became more animated, interested in hearing the stories about Geralt that hadn’t made it into the songs.

The first week passed in relative peace. Jaskier settled into his role, discovering that he enjoyed teaching - the rapt attention of his students gave him the same warm feeling as an appreciative audience.

**

Jaskier’s reputation meant that when rumors of a witcher lurking around Oxenfurt began to spread, no fewer than a dozen students stopped by his room to ask if he had heard, if he had spoken to the witcher. 

He hadn’t spoken to the witcher. He knew from the rumors that it wasn’t Geralt (brown hair). Part of him was tempted, curious to see what the witcher was even doing here - they weren’t facing any threats that he was aware of. The rest of him was too aware of the danger that any witcher might pose to the delicate balance of his life at the moment. 

It was fine; whoever this witcher was, he would leave soon, and that would be that. 

**

Jaskier had the unsettling feeling that he was being watched, which was ridiculous - of course he was - he was in the middle of teaching a class. Then, Lilura let out a low growl, too quiet to be heard by any of the students. He followed her gaze to the open window closest to him, where a bearded vulture was sitting on the closest gable. When he noticed their attention, he squealed before taking off, quickly disappearing from sight.

Jaskier took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn’t sure why the daemon seemed to be keeping tabs on him, but it couldn’t be for anything good. 

He tried to focus on his class, but he couldn’t force himself to think about anything else. It was growing dark by the time they were done, and Jaskier wanted nothing more than to return to the relative safety of his rooms. As soon as they had left the building, Jaskier ducked into an alley to let Solidago out of the satchel he had been hiding in. The magpie flew up above the rooftops to keep an eye on their surroundings. He could tell Lilura was antsy, but she stayed close.

They were only able to relax when they arrived home and saw Ciri and Art safe, curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

**

“Should we try to find Geralt?” Jaskier asked. They had been in Oxenfurt for a fortnight, and up until this point, they had not discussed the future. Things had been going well, but between seeing the vulture daemonagain and the rumors of the witcher, Jaskier was starting to feel like they might not be safe in Oxenfurt for as long as they had hoped. 

Lilura was stretched out next to the fire with Solidago settled on her back. She looked up at the question. “Why?”

“She’s his child surprise,” Jaskier responded, waving a hand. “Now that Calanthe is,” he trailed off, still having trouble imagining the fierce lioness slain. “Well, anyway, he’s meant to be her guardian.”

“He’s never been interested in caring for a child,” Lilura pointed out. “I hardly know him now, but I know that much.”

“Still,” Jaskier started, then changed tacks, sinking to the floor next to the wolf, “I don’t know that I’m suited to take care of her. It was one thing when we thought it would just be for a few months, but now...”

Lilura huffed. “Why didn’t you just  _ say  _ that?”

“He’s an idiot?” Solidago offered.

“Hey,” Jaskier protested.

“You are a perfectly adequate guardian for my pup,” Lilura declared, laying her head down on her paws, “and she is mine as much as she is Geralt’s.”

“Oh good, I feel so much better now,” Jaskier grumbled, but in truth he did. He knew that Lilura was teasing, and he trusted that if she had any real concerns she would tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Battle Cries" by the Amazing Devil
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and kudos <3
> 
> Come say hi on my new [Witcher side-blog on tumblr!](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)


	7. a narrative appeared in plain sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitors in Oxenfurt.

Lilura was standing with her paws on the windowsill, staring out at the city, when she sneezed.

Jaskier looked up from his notes. “Are you alright?”

The wolf dropped her paws and sneezed again, making an irritated face. “She’s coming.”

Jaskier thumped his head onto the desk; he didn’t have the energy for this. 

**

“Where is he?” 

Jaskier jumped, making what was probably an unfortunately undignified noise in surprise as Yennefer stormed into his office. A moment later, the beating of enormous wings announced the arrival of Nikifor as Yennefer's daemon swooped down and landed on the windowsill. 

“Remind me to keep that closed,” Jaskier muttered to Lilura, eyeing the bearded vulture warily, “and to lock the door.”

“Don’t worry; I’m not here for you,” Yennefer said, as if that was supposed to make him feel any better, but then she looked back over at him, frowning at the sight of Lilura. “What have you done?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, maintaining eye contact, trying to project innocence.

“That”-she pointed at Lilura and lowered her voice-“is not your daemon.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth to try to persuade her that she was wrong and then stopped. He wasn’t going to be able to lie to her, so he just leaned back in his chair and waited.

Yennefer huffed in irritation. “Geralt isn’t here, is he?”

“Nope,” Jaskier said brightly, “haven’t seen him in a year? Something like that.”

Yennefer nodded. Looking towards Lilura, she asked, “Why are you here?”

“Yennefer,” Jaskier said slowly, “I work here.”

“Not you,” she snarled, and Jaskier grinned. He knew he probably shouldn’t bait someone so powerful, but it was _fun._

“I was talking to you.” Yennefer pointed to Lilura.

“I live here,” Lilura answered with a grin, glancing up at Jaskier.

“Does _Geralt_ know that you are here?”

Lilura shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Yennefer sighed, sinking gracefully into the chair opposite Jaskier, but keeping her focus on Lilura. “Why was I never drawn to you before?”

“I don’t know exactly what the bond is, but I think I was usually close enough to Geralt that it wouldn’t have been distinguishable,” Lilura said.

Yennefer tilted her head. “And you aren’t close to him now?”

“I had more important things to do.”

“Were you looking for him?” Jaskier asks. “I was under the impression that you didn’t want to see him.”

Yennefer made a face. “I don’t, but”-she sighed-“the mages, all of us, are heading down to Sodden Hill to try to stop Nilfgaard. Geralt would have been a useful ally.” She stood, brushing invisible dust off her dress. “No matter. He isn’t here, and I should go. It was very interesting to meet you-”

“Lilura.”

“Lilura.” Yennefer nodded. “Stay safe, bard.” She actually sounded genuine.

“Yennefer,” Jaskier called before she stepped into the hallway, “good luck. And if you or any of the other mages need somewhere safe after the battle, they are welcome here.” He hoped they would be, anyway. 

Yennefer nodded in acknowledgment and then disappeared into the hallway. 

Jaskier sunk back into his chair. “I have a terrible feeling about this.”

“We should stock up on healing supplies. Just to be safe.” 

Jaskier nodded. They would go shopping tomorrow to stock up. For now, they would go back to their rooms and try to cheer Ciri. Try to forget about the approaching army for a little longer. 

**

Ciri drew the velvet bag from the spot where she had hidden it. Jaskier was playing something soft in the other room, and she could see Lilura laying by the fire, eyes closed but ears perked as she listened to Jaskier play.

Art jumped onto the bed at her side as she opened the bag and drew out the last gift her grandmother had given to her, just before Ciri had left Cintra: the _alethiometer_. She hadn’t had much time to look at while they were traveling, but her grandmother had said that she suspected Cirilla would be able to use it, the same way her mother had.

“How does it work?” Art asked, peering down at the symbols.

Ciri shrugged, spinning the three dials to random pictures and watching the fourth needle swing, pausing momentarily on different images.

Ciri spun one had to point at the image of a wolf, glancing up to where Lilura lay. She wondered about Geralt, about where he was and what he was doing. If he would find her. She left the first needle on the wolf, spinning the second to the sword, and, thinking of the stories Jaskier had told her about Geralt, the third to the scales. The fourth needle started swinging to a series of images, and Ciri felt herself _understanding._ When the needle came to a halt at the image of an hourglass with a skull above it, she jolted to her feet. 

She burst out of her room, the alethiometer left on the bed. Jaskier looked up at her sudden appearance. “What’s wrong darling?”

“Geralt. I think he’s about to face something terrible. I think he might die!” Ciri was trembling, suddenly certain that she had interpreted the meaning correctly.

Jaskier wrapped her into a hug as she struggled to control her breathing. 

“What makes you think that?” Jaskier asked, voice soft.

Ciri pulled away, leading him to her room and showing him the alethiometer. “It tells the truth,” Ciri said, as Jaskier sat next to her and she explained what she had learned.

After she was done, Jaskier nodded decisively. “Lilura, stay here with Ciri.” They trailed after him as he walked into his room, discarding his blue doublet for a gray one in an understated style.

“Where are you going?” Ciri asked. 

Jaskier paused by the door, Solidago perched on his shoulder. “I’m going to hire a witcher.”

**

The witcher wasn’t hard to spot when he reached the tavern. Sitting in the farthest corner of the bar, conspicuous in the way he was trying not to draw attention. Jaskier ordered an ale for himself and the witcher, heading over and setting the mug in front of the other man. 

The witcher looked up, amber eyes narrowing. “Whatever you want, I’m not interested,” the man growled.

Jaskier sat down, unperturbed. Solidago hopped onto the table. “I have a job for you.”

“Not interested.” 

Jaskier cocked his head, wondering again what the witcher was doing in Oxenfurt. Solidago had hopped slightly closer to the witcher and let out a satisfied chirp, drawing Jaskier’s attention to the wolf medallion around the man’s neck. Thank the gods. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if the man had been from one of the other schools. He didn’t know if Geralt got along with the other witchers - they had never discussed it - but at least this one would know Geralt. 

“I think you will be,” Jaskier told him. “I need you to find someone for me.”

The witcher snorted. “I’m no bounty hunter.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I know that. Besides, I need you to make sure this person _doesn’t_ die.”

The witcher didn’t say anything, which Jaskier took as encouragement to continue. “I have reason to believe that Geralt of Rivia is badly wounded. I would like to hire you to find him - _quickly_ \- and make sure that he doesn’t die.”

The witcher’s eyes had widened slightly at Geralt’s name, but he was otherwise expressionless. _He_ was expressionless, but Jaskier could have sworn he heard a noise from the man’s pocket. 

Solidago seemed to think so as well, edging closer to the witcher to examine him. 

“Why would you want to hire me to save Geralt?” the man asked.

“I have a vested interest in his continuing to live,” Jaskier said, not sure how much he wanted to explain to this man.

“How do you _know_ that he’s injured?” 

Jaskier, briefly distracted from his original purpose, pointed at him. “You have your daemon with you, don’t you?”

“Witchers don’t have daemons.” 

Jaskier leaned closer. “I know that isn’t true.”

There was another noise. The witcher had a mulish expression, as if he thought he could win an argument with Jaskier. Or intimidate him.

"You can let her out," Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, if she's going to make so much noise, I don't know what the point is in hiding her."

Lambert considered him for a long moment before he sighed. "She's usually quiet, and most people don't get close enough to hear her even if she's not."

Jaskier felt that peculiar emotion that he only felt with witchers, a combination of wanting to hide them away and shower them with comfort and wanting to fight everyone who had ever hurt them.

“Well, I know she’s there, now, and nobody else is going to venture into this dark corner.” Jaskier tried to keep his voice even, not wanting to spook the witcher but also desperately curious.

The witcher hesitated for another long moment before he nodded. “I suppose. The name’s Lambert.” A tiny bird jumped onto the table. “This is Tzila.”

Solidago let out a delighted noise, lowering his head to greet the other daemon. Jaskier fought to suppress a smile; it was so _cute._ Though clearly a bird of prey, she was about the size of a sparrow. 

The little bird was wary at first, obviously unused to interacting with other daemons, but Solidago was not deterred, talking quietly to the smaller bird who remained silent. 

Lambert looked up at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “Who _are_ you?”

Jaskier grinned widely. “I’m Jaskier. So, will you take the job?”

“Geralt’s bard?” Lambert looked at him appraisingly.

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest being called Geralt’s _anything,_ but considering the situation, it didn’t seem worth arguing.

Lambert narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you the wolf bard? Where’s the wolf?”

“That would be telling.” Jaskier leaned back in his chair, glad to have the upper hand again.

“I followed a white wolf,” Tzila said, her voice soft and low. “She ran and ran, and I followed.”

Lambert cocked his head, looking at his daemon. “When you left Khaer Morhen?”

Tzila bobbed her head up and down. “She led us out.” Tzila fixed her gaze on Jaskier, voice going cold. “She isn’t yours to keep.”

“She chooses to stay,” Solidago said, feathers puffing up in indignation. Jaskier could tell that Solidago wanted to argue that _yes_ , she was theirs but held back. 

Lambert narrowed his eyes. “I’ll make sure Geralt survives. But”-he leaned closer-“when I get back, you are going to tell me _how_ you ended up traveling with his daemon.”

Jaskier grinned. “Fair enough. He should be close to Brokilon Forest.” He pulled out a rough map he had drawn based on the information Ciri had been able to gather, pointing to the spot where they _thought_ the attack would happen. “He’s traveling, so I’m not sure exactly where he is now, but we are fairly certain this is where he is going to run into danger.”

Lambert nodded, scooping Tzila up and back into his pocket. “That’ll do. I’ll be able to track him when I get closer.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier said sincerely. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

Lambert shrugged. “Destiny would have found another way, I’m sure.” He didn’t sound happy about the idea, but Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care, not if it meant keeping Geralt alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from “Witness Me” by The Dear Hunter.  
> Thank you all for the comments & kudos! I really appreciate them all!  
> My only Witcher knowledge at the moment is the show (starting the books) so Lambert is based on the wiki and also other fics I've read. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: https://hirikka.tumblr.com/
> 
> Daemon key:  
> Nikifor is [Bearded Vulture](https://res.cloudinary.com/roundglass/image/upload/c_fill,ar_1.1,g_auto/f_auto/v1577106807/roundglass/sustain/Bearded-Vulture_Jan-van-Biljon_Shutterstock-4_ae9qra.jpg) (I love these birds)  
> Tzila is a [Asian Black-Thighed Falconet](https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CUG8MctTF_c/TzUmPvdvc0I/AAAAAAAAAkE/9c1xq8zu_PU/s640/228.JPG)
> 
> There is now a one-shot about [Lambert and Tzila!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725669)


	8. long as there's a song to be sung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude in Oxenfurt

“Again,” Lilura urged. Art had stopped, panting, but at the wolf’s words, he shook himself and shifted into the form of a fox, lunging forward and under the wolf, trying to use his smaller size to his advantage. 

Jaskier and Ciri had paused to watch them spar, but after a moment, Ciri nodded to indicate that she was ready to start again, adjusting her grip on her dagger. Jaskier grinned, falling into an easy stance and allowing Ciri to practice the moves he had been showing her. 

Cirilla had been starting to learn to spar and fight in Cintra; you couldn’t be raised by Calanthe without learning to fight, but Jaskier fought dirty, which was  _ fun.  _ Learning from her grandmother’s guards had always been serious, focused on proper techniques. Jaskier was focusing on using her current strengths - her size and speed - to her advantage. Jaskier would try to distract her by telling absolutely ridiculous stories, so the matches often ended with both of them collapsed in breathless laughter. 

**

Jaskier was roused by Lilura springing into his bed.

“Ciri needs you.” 

“Hm?” Jaskier rubbed at his eyes, still mostly asleep. 

“She’s having a nightmare. I woke her, but I think she needs more comfort than I can offer.” 

That woke Jaskier up the rest of the way. Ciri had been sleeping easier in the last few days, but the nightmares were still frequent. And damned Calanthe had encouraged her to be self-sufficient, so she wouldn’t come to him for help, which is why Lilura had been sleeping in her room for the past week. 

Jaskier scrambled out of bed, scooping up Solidago and following Lilura. Ciri was huddled in the middle of the bed, curled around Art.

“Cirilla,” Jaskier called, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Dad?” Ciri asked, shifting closer.

Jaskier froze for half a second. She had called him that before, in public of course, to keep up their cover, but she had never said it in private. Never like she  _ meant  _ it. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, though.

“Yes, I’m here.” He helped her shuffle closer so that her head was on his lap and he could card his fingers through her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Ciri shook her head. “No. Can you sing something?” 

“Of course,” Jaskier agreed. He would try to get her to talk more in the morning; for now, he would just comfort her as best he could. He sang all the lullabies he could think of until he was sure she had fallen back asleep. Nestled between him on one side and Lilura on the other.

**

Jaskier wasn’t quite sure if it was that night that changed things or if it had been growing since he took her from Cintra, but she relaxed the last of her walls around him. She was more willing to ask for  help , to admit when she needed comfort.

She started to call him dad all the time. It was terrifying. It was also wonderful. 

Jaskier had never really thought of having children, but he loved Ciri fiercely and would do anything in his power to make sure she was safe and happy. He absolutely refused to think about what would happen when Geralt showed up. If he came. 

**

Close to two weeks passed, and they were beginning to hope that the danger Ciri had foreseen might have been avoided. And then, shortly after they had returned to their rooms one evening, Lilura staggered, letting out a pained yelp before collapsing. Jaskier instantly fell to his knees next to her, Solidago pressing close to the wolf.

“He’s dying,” Lilura gasped, trying to keep her voice low as she heard Ciri and Art running over.

“What’s wrong?” Ciri asked.

“Geralt’s hurt,” Jaskier said, “but I’m sure Lambert will find him soon; he’ll be okay.”

Ciri nodded but looked unconvinced. Art scampered off and returned a moment later, pressing the alethiometer into Ciri’s hands. 

She sat down, close to Lilura, and tried to focus enough to use the device. Her hands shook on the dials, and she couldn’t get her thoughts to focus. She was worried about Geralt, but she also realized with a growing sense of horror that if he died, so would Lilura. While Geralt was still an abstract, she loved Lilura; she couldn’t stand the thought that not only would she be losing whatever Geralt could have been to her, she would also be losing Lilura who was already part of her family.

Jaskier made soothing noises, pulling her into his arms and wiping away the tears she hadn’t noticed. “It’s okay, dearheart. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Ciri whispered. “I should be able to at least find out if he’ll be okay; I should be able to do something!”

“You’ve already done something,” Jaskier responded, running his fingers through her hair soothingly. “You gave us warning. You gave us enough time to send someone to help him.”

It didn’t feel like enough, but Ciri allowed Jaskier to take the alethiometer from her hands and put it aside. She buried her hands into Art’s fur as he climbed onto her lap. Jaskier continued to murmur soothingly, while Solidago ran a comforting beak through Lilura’s fur. 

It felt like hours passed before Lilura stood, giving a full body shake and a long sigh. “He’s recovering.”

“Oh thank the gods,” Jaskier gasped. He gently shook Ciri from her sleep. “Geralt is healing. You saved him.”

Ciri looked at him blearily for a moment before she grinned, throwing her arms around Jaskier as Art jumped over to press himself against Lilura in the form of a wolf cub. Lilura lay back down, still worn, curling around Artaxias. 

**

Ciri ended up falling asleep on the rug by the fire next to Lilura, and Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to wake her again. Instead, he sat nearby, watching the three sleeping forms.

“This means Geralt will be coming here, what are we going to do, Sol?”

Solidago tilted his head. “We’re going to have to talk to him. Make him talk to us.”

“Mm, I suppose it would be too much to hope that Lambert doesn’t tell him about us?”

“You didn’t ask him not to mention us,” Sol pointed out, “but even if you had, I don’t think we could have kept this a secret forever.”

“I know,”  Jaskier sighed . “I just don’t know what is going to happen. What if Geralt wants to take Ciri?”

Sol ruffled his feathers. “If he has somewhere safer than here? We’ll just have to go with him.”

“He won’t want us there.”

“Well, he’ll have to suck it up,” Sol said, an edge to his voice. “Ciri and Art need us. Lilura  _ will _ want us with them.”

“I suppose.”

“Don’t be so maudlin.” Sol pecked one of Jaskier’s fingers. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Alright alright,” Jaskier grumbled, moving his hands out of pecking range. 

**

The journey from Brokilon to Oxenfurt would normally take four days. According to Lilura, Geralt was still recovering and wouldn’t be able to travel as quickly, which meant they probably had a week and a half before Geralt arrived - assuming that Lambert was able to keep Geralt from pushing himself. So probably just a week.

A week seemed both too long and too short to Jaskier. He continued his teaching and made sure that Ciri was still meeting with the tutors he had set up, but none of it felt as important as it had a few weeks ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Rose of Sharon” by Mumford & Sons  
> Next chapter should be up soon and will have Geralt!
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! Say hi on [tumblr!](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If anyone has any ideas/prompts for things they would like to see in this universe send an ask over on my tumblr!


	9. will not be the beast that hides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt arrives in Oxenfurt.

Lilura was alone in the apartment. The rest of her pack had gone out to enjoy the unusually warm day, clambering up onto the roof. If she listened closely, she could hear the faint sounds of lute strumming. She had encouraged them to go out. She could sense that Geralt was drawing close, likely already in the city, and she wanted to see him before Jaskier or Ciri.

It had been over a year since she had seen him, and she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about this reunion. 

A knock on the door drew her out of her thoughts. She padded over, stood on her hind legs to push aside the deadbolt, and then dropped down to her paws to pull the door open.

Geralt’s gaze locked on her immediately. “Sol-” he started but then cut himself off, eyes narrowing as he recognized her. “Lilura?”

“Yes. Come in.” 

Geralt reluctantly walked further into the room.

Lambert, behind him, glanced between Lilura and Geralt. “Tell the bard I’ll be back later.”

Lilura nodded in assent, keeping her eyes fixed on Geralt. Lambert stepped back, pulling the door closed behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt hissed. He kept his face calm, but Lilura could sense his anxiety and confusion. 

“I’m looking after my pack,” Lilura said. She had been prepared to be angry, but he felt like sorrow and regret, which was making her reluctant to be too harsh.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s tone was tinged in something like desperation.

“Yes,” Lilura agreed. “He and Sol needed _you,_ but you were too busy destroying yourself.”

“I,” Geralt hesitated, “I know. I fucked up.”

“You did.” 

Geralt drew in on himself slightly.

Lilura sighed. She hated this. There was a part of her that still hated Geralt for how he had hurt Jaskier and for how he had hurt her. But, despite it all, they were still two halves of the same whole, and they had been hurting for so long. She didn’t want to make it worse.

“You can probably still fix things,” she told him. “They care about you, about us. You didn’t destroy that.”

Geralt looked up, meeting her eyes again. 

She tilted her head, looking at him appraisingly. “You missed him.”

“Hm.” It was an agreement, even if he was not ready to say it out loud.

“Why didn’t you find him?”

Geralt sat down on the floor, bringing himself to eye level. “It took. Longer than I would care to admit to realize how badly I had treated him.” He took a deep breath. “And then, I started paying attention in towns, seeing if I could find out where he was. How he was doing. And I heard about the wolf bard.”

“Ah,” Lilura breathed.

Geralt nodded. “I wasn’t sure if it was my fault. But I was afraid to see Jaskier changed so much that Sol would have transformed. Then I heard the rumors about Nilfgaard. Figured I would try to find Jaskier after I made sure my child surprise was safe.”

“You went to Cintra?” Lilura had not expected that. 

Geralt shrugged. “Running from destiny was making me miserable. Making everyone around me miserable, as well.”

Lilura huffed. “Took you long enough.”

Geralt grimaced. “I know. Didn’t even matter. She was gone when I arrived in the city.” 

Lilura was about to respond when a flurry of feathers came in through the window. Geralt jumped to his feet, hand going to his sword. 

Lilura just let out an amused yip as she watched the two bird daemons tumble through the air. 

“Lilura, you–” Jaskier was already speaking as he dropped in through the window, but he froze when he saw Geralt. 

Noticing the sudden tension, Sol and Art stopped playing. Sol swooped down to land next to Lilura in the middle of the room. Art retreated back towards Jaskier and the window. Nobody moved or spoke for a long moment.

“Dad?” The call from outside spurred Jaskier into rapid movement. He dropped his lute into the chair next to him and then turned back to the window to help Ciri back into their rooms.

Lilura turned her attention back to Geralt who was shifting uneasily.

As soon as Ciri was safely inside, Art jumped into her arms, transforming as he went to the form of a tawny house-cat. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, clearly steadying himself. “Hullo, Geralt. Didn’t know you were coming.” He shot a meaningful glare towards Lilura.

“I– Sorry?” Geralt tried.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t annoyed at you.” He pointed at Lilura with a half-hearted glare, “You did this on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Lilura agreed, glad that Jaskier seemed to be recovering. 

“Well, alright.” Jaskier rocked back on his heels, before announcing in his most formal tone, “Ciri, this is Geralt. Geralt, this is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon and Artaxias.” 

“Cirilla?” Geralt asked, shock evident in his voice. He paused and then added, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ciri tilted her head, giving the witcher an appraising look. “You can call me Ciri.” With that decision made, she brushed past Solidago and Lilura and went into the kitchen to make herself tea.

Jaskier watched her for a moment before turning back to Geralt. “We probably need to talk. Do you want a drink?”

Geralt nodded a little desperately and trailed after Jaskier to the sitting room. 

Jaskier busied himself with fetching a bottle of wine and two glasses, mostly managing to hide the way his hands shook.

“Jaskier,” Geralt started, then paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier turned back to him, passing him a glass.

“I shouldn’t have said those things. On the mountain. I was being cruel. You didn’t deserve that,” Geralt continued.

Jaskier sighed, slumping into one of the chairs by the fire. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

Sol flew up to sit on Jaskier’s shoulder, tugging on his hair. Jaskier grinned, a little ruefully. “But I forgive you.”

Geralt relaxed a degree, relief clear in his features. “I swear, if, if you still want to travel with me. I’ll try to be better.”

That seemed to cheer Jaskier up significantly. “Oh? Is that you admitting that you enjoy spending time with me?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

Geralt winced, realizing how that had sounded. “Yes. If you want to.” He turned, looking towards the kitchen.

“Ah yes”–Jaskier turned as well, following his gaze–“there is your child surprise to consider. I won’t leave her.” 

Geralt looked back at him. “I went to Cintra to try to find her. You just got there first.”

Jaskier grinned. “Look at me, stealing your child and your daemon.”

Lilura snorted. “As if any of this was your idea.”

Jaskier shrugged, unrepentant.

Geralt looked between them, expression unreadable. “I just want her to be safe.”

“Well, good. That’s what we want as well. Nobody here knows who she is. They all think she’s my daughter.”

“Hm.” Geralt considered. “Khaer Morhen would be safer. I’d like to take her there. To take you both there.”

Lilura growled, low in her throat. 

Geralt moved from his chair to sit on the floor, bringing himself to eye level with Lilura.

“We’ll give you a moment,” Jaskier said, voice soft. He and Solidago retreated to join Ciri in the kitchen.

“I owe you an apology as well,” Geralt said.

“Yes,” Lilura agreed. 

“I am sorry. I thought it would be easier. Better. If we were apart.”

Lilura tilted her head. “Was it?”

Geralt huffed. “No.”

“Hm.” 

Geralt lifted a hand, then dropped it back into his lap. “Would you consider trying again?”

Lilura stood. “Geralt”–she took a step closer–“do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass?”

Geralt snorted a surprised laugh. She grinned, pressing her nose into his shoulder. He reached up, still tentative and placed his hand on her shoulder. Lilura leaned into the touch; it had been so _long_. Geralt’s fingers tightened convulsively before he moved closer, pressing his face into her fur. They both felt the same rush of relief, comfort. Warmth and safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "This is not the end" by Milck
> 
> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I rewrote it at least 3 times before I was happy enough to want to post it,,  
> The update schedule for this might stay a little sporadic, I'm doing a mini and big bang for this fandom at the moment so I have, several WIPs at the moment.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! It means so much that people are enjoying this fic! I'm hirikka on tumblr if anyone wants to say hi!


	10. walk with the sun hand in hand from the wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

Ciri watched as Artaxias, in the form of a mouse, scurried back from the main room.

“Jaskier’s coming!” he whispered.

Ciri picked him up and moved away, taking a seat at the table, trying to look as though she hadn’t been eavesdropping. “Well?” she asked. She hadn’t been able to hear much.

“I think it’s going well.” Art reported, “Nobody is yelling, and Lilura didn’t bite him. So I think that’s a good sign.”

“Oh good,” Ciri said. She hadn’t known what to expect. She knew that Jaskier cared about Geralt; it was clear in the stories he told. She also knew that Geralt had done something to hurt them. She had seen the way Sol ruffled his feathers as if nervous, had noticed how Lilura always disappeared, returning only when Jaskier had moved on to other topics.

“Geralt said something about Khaer Morhen, though,” Art said, sounding worried.

Jaskier and Sol entered the room before they could talk more. Sol hopped onto the table, giving them a look that suggested he knew they had been eavesdropping. 

“What’s going to happen now?” Ciri asked. 

“We haven’t completely decided,” Jaskier said, sitting down near her. “Lilura is talking to him now.”

“We?” Art asked.

Jaskier gave an odd little smile. “He went to Cintra to try to find you; he wants to make sure you two are safe, cub.”

Ciri was silent for a moment, considering. “Does he want to take me away?” 

Jaskier nodded. “He wants to go to Kaehr Morhen. It would be safe there.”

“I won’t leave you!” Ciri said, suddenly fierce. “Or Lilura.”

Solidago preened Art’s fur soothingly. Jaskier pulled Ciri into a hug. “Oh love, don’t worry; you aren’t going anywhere without us.”

Ciri pressed closer. “Thank you.”

“Dearheart,” Jaskier murmured, running his fingers through her hair, “you don’t have to thank us. We’re family; if we leave here, we go together.”

**

Jaskier had taken Ciri back to her bedroom after a while, giving Geralt and Lilura more privacy. Ciri and Art were sitting on the bed with the alethiometer. Jaskier was sprawled on the floor by the fire, working out the tune for a new song. 

“What do you think Kaehr Morhen is like?” Art asked.

“I don’t know much about it,” Jaskier admitted. “I know it's a fort up in the mountains. It used to be the Wolf’s school, but now… now, it's just a place they can be safe for the winter.”

“When the snow comes, the pass closes, and nobody is able to reach the fort,” Geralt added from the doorway. 

Jaskier jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Lilura huffed in amusement as she padded into the room. 

“I think Geralt is right,” Lilura said, settling onto the floor next to Jaskier. “We might be safe here for a while, but if the army keeps pushing north…”

“When would we need to leave?” Jaskier asked.

“Soon,” Geralt said. He shifted slightly—uncomfortable, Jaskier realized.

Jaskier waved a hand. “Come in. We should figure out what supplies we’ll need for the journey.”

Geralt nodded, coming into the room and taking a seat next to Lilura. Jaskier watched as he reached out and stroked a hand through Lilura’s fur. Lilura caught his eye and grinned. Jaskier felt himself relax slightly. They were going to be okay. 

**

Lambert found Jaskier in the market.

“Nice hat.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, ignoring the sarcasm. “Not all of us have pocket-sized birds.”

Lambert snorted a laugh. “Fair enough. So, I haven't seen my idiot brother since I dropped him off. Things better?”

“Something like that,” Lilura said.

“Getting there,” Jaskier agreed.

“Are you planning to head north?” 

“Yes, actually.” Jaskier shoved the bundle of clothes he had been carrying into Lambert’s arms. “Hold onto that for a moment.”

Lambert glowered. “I’m not a pack mule.”

He held onto the clothes though, so Jaskier flashed a bright grin and turned back to finish haggling on a supply of dried food that would keep on the road.

“Will you travel with us?” Jaskier asked once he had secured his purchase.

“Suppose I could,” Lambert agreed. “What are you going to do about the wolf? You’re not going to be able to keep the bird in a hat all winter.”

“I’m coming,” Lilura said.

“I’m very persuasive. I’m sure we’ll be able to work things out.” 

Lambert smiled at that. “Well, now I’ve got to come with; watching you battle it out with Vessemir sounds too good to miss.”

“Good. We’re leaving in a few days. Do you have everything you need for the trip?”

**

A knock on the door startled all three men. 

Jaskier waved at the two witchers to settle down and approached the door, Lilura at his side while Sol and Tzila tucked themselves out of sight around the corner. Jaskier swung the door open to reveal one of his students, Ilona. The girl’s eyes widened when she caught sight of the two witchers in the room, but she recovered quickly. 

“Master Pankratz? You said you wanted us to let you know if we heard any news about Nilfgaard?”

“Yes.” Jaskier smiled warmly, trying to put her at ease. “Come in. Have a seat.” He led her into the sitting room. The witchers were in the kitchen, and he didn’t want to make her more nervous by having them watching her. 

“There was a battle at Sodden Hill. Everyone from Aretuza went to make a stand…” Ilona hesitated for a moment. “It sounds like we won, but at a great cost. Nilfgaard might not move until after the winter, but, um, it sounds like a lot of the sorcerers were killed.”

“Thank you for letting me know. Are you planning to stay here over the holidays?”

Ilona shook her head. “No, I’m going home. We live further north, so.”

Jaskier smiled again. “That’s probably wise.” He offered her some tea but she declined, seeming happy to head back out now that her message had been delivered. 

Jaskier looked over to where Geralt was frowning at the table. Lambert looked puzzled by the other witcher’s reaction. With a sigh Jaskier returned to the kitchen. “Can you tell?”

Geralt grimaced but nodded. “She’s still alive.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good.” Jaskier was mildly surprised to find that he actually was glad that Yennefer had survived. “Do you…” he trailed off, not entirely sure what he meant to ask.

Geralt seemed to understand anyway, shaking his head. “No. Getting Ciri safe is the most important thing.”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Well. That’s settled then. We’ll leave tomorrow as planned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Battle Cries"  
> official time-line whom?
> 
> As always - thank you all for the comments&kudos! I appreciate all of them :)
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)


	11. watch them bend til they break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Kaer Morhen.

“Oh, this is so much better; I should have gotten a horse years ago,” Jaskier said cheerfully. He was trailing far behind the others as Pegasus ambled along the trail, but witcher hearing was helpful, as always. Geralt turned in the saddle to glare at Jaskier. 

Jaskier grinned at him and stroked his horse’s neck. “Such a good boy.”

Geralt snorted and turned back to look ahead.

Ciri slowed her horse to match Pegasus’s pace. “Will you play something?” 

“Anything for you,” Jaskier replied, pulling his lute onto his lap. “Sol, please keep an eye on Pegasus to make sure he doesn't _completely_ give up on walking.”

Ciri giggled as Pegasus took Jaskier’s lack of attention as permission to stop. 

“Oh, you are a stubborn creature,” Jaskier sighed, nudging the horse with his heels. “Unfortunately, we must trudge on.”

Pegasus snorted.

“I know; it is terrible to ride for so long without a single inn or cozy stable to stop at. But alas, the cruel witchers insist that we must travel quickly!”

Geralt didn’t react, but Ciri giggled harder. Jaskier considered it a success and started strumming his lute. 

**

They had just finished setting up camp for the evening. Jaskier was watching as Geralt showed Ciri forms to prepare her to learn the sword. Lambert was watching the stew he had prepared with the rabbits he caught earlier. It was a perfect, peaceful moment, so of course it was interrupted by a gust of wind as Nikifor dove into the camp. Lambert was on his feet in a moment, hand going to his sword.

Nikifor flared his wings, hissing at Lambert.

“Don’t attack,” Geralt barked, stepping in front of Ciri.

Nikifor turned to look at Geralt. “Oh good.” He sounded more irritated than anything. “You’re actually here this time.” 

As soon as he finished speaking, a portal opened, Yennefer staggering through, supported by another sorceress who Jaskier didn’t recognize. 

“Triss?” Geralt frowned. “What happened?”

The new sorceress, Triss, helped Yennefer over to a log by the fire. “Sodden Hill happened.” Triss sighed. “Yennefer tapped into powerful magic to stop Nilfgaard.”

“I can’t do a damn spell right now,” Yennefer snarled. “I need time to recover. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anywhere decent to go to recover. So I”—she paused with a grimace, clearly unhappy with the situation—“I need your help.”

“Hm,” Geralt said. 

Lambert had edged over to Jaskier. “What on earth is going on?”

“Oh gods,” Jaskier moaned, “that’s a loaded question.”

Yennefer shifted her attention to Jaskier. “Oh. You’re here.”

Jaskier tilted his head and said, in the most pleasant voice he could muster, “Yennefer. I wondered why all the birds had stopped singing.”

“Triss,” Geralt interrupted before Yennefer could respond, “is there any chance you were followed?”

“No,” Triss said, “we took several stops before coming here. Even if anyone had been able to see us leaving, I would have been able to tell if they were tracking us.”

Geralt nodded in acknowledgment, moving forward to take a seat across from Yennefer. When he moved, Ciri and Art darted past him to sit next to Jaskier, keeping their focus on the witches.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes at the girl as Jaskier wrapped an arm around Ciri’s shoulders. She had clearly been startled by the abrupt arrival of the magic users.

“We’re heading to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said. “You are-” he paused, glancing over to Lambert who was silently watching. “You are welcome to come with us. Both of you.” 

Triss’ daemon, a little yellow bird with black markings who had been sitting in her hair, trilled something too low for Jaskier to hear. The sorceress nodded. “I appreciate the offer, but I need to return to Aretuza. There are places where I can be of more help than your fortress.” 

She stepped away from the campfire, cast one last unreadable look between Yennefer and Geralt, and then opened a portal and was gone.

Yennefer turned her attention back to Jaskier. “Your youthful mistakes finally catching up to you?” She tilted her head in mock sympathy while glancing meaningfully at Ciri.

“Yen,” Geralt growled, warning clear in his tone. 

Yennefer glanced at him and away again quickly. Jaskier would be willing to bet good coin on this being the first time they had seen each other since the mountain. There was clearly unresolved tension there, and Jaskier was not interested in that particular situation blowing up in his face again. As if in agreement, Lilura moved, padding over to lay down in front of Jaskier and Ciri, keeping a watchful eye on Nikifor. 

“Well,” Lambert drawled after a moment, “this is delightful. I’m Lambert. It’s lovely to meet you…?”

“Yennefer.” She barely spared a glance at Lambert, who just shrugged and started spooning the stew into bowls.

“This is-” Geralt started.

“Fiona,” Ciri interrupted. Art shifted into his lanky wolf form, sprawled next to Lilura, and used a paw to pull Solidago closer so that he was bracketed by the two wolves. Jaskier pressed a kiss to the top of Ciri’s head, feeling overwhelmed by the fact that they were trying to protect him. 

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence. Yennefer’s magic was weak enough that she wasn’t able to conjure herself a tent, but Triss had left supplies, so she had a bedroll like the rest of them. It was clearly not to her taste, but she was tired enough that she didn’t complain, just claimed a spot by the fire and fell asleep.

**

There was some discussion of stopping in a town to see about getting a horse for Yennefer, but in the end, they decided it wasn’t worth the lost time. Lambert ended up letting her ride his horse—he had been spending most days on foot in the woods, scouting ahead or hunting. Jaskier envied him as he disappeared from view; he did not have a good feeling about the way this day was going to go. 

Ciri hung back, matching Pegasus’s pace. “So, Yennefer?”

Sol croaked in irritation. Jaskier had avoided mentioning Yennefer when he told stories about Geralt. He had been trying to tell Ciri the good stories, and Yennefer rarely featured in those. 

“She’s a powerful sorceress. Geralt found her when I was badly injured and needed magical healing. She was able to help, but-” Jaskier paused, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “There was a djinn involved, and Geralt bound their fates together. I don’t think any of us really know exactly how it works, but it meant that their paths crossed more often than they had any reason to. I think-”

Here, he needed to pause again, not wanting to influence Ciri’s opinion with his own biases; if they were to spend the winter together, they didn’t need any additional tension. “I think they both cared about each other quite a bit. They might have said they were in love; I’m not sure. Geralt isn’t forthcoming about his emotions, and Yennefer and I”—he smiled wryly—“are not particularly fond of each other.”

“What happened?” Ciri asked.

“Well, Yennefer found out that the djinn was involved in their relationship. After that, she felt that she couldn’t trust Geralt or her own emotions. They both hurt each other quite badly, and Yennefer said that she didn’t want to see Geralt again.”

“Oh,” Ciri grimaced, “she can’t be happy to be traveling with us, then.”

“No,” Jaskier agreed, “but perhaps it will be good for them. They parted rather abruptly; it might do them good to actually talk.”

Ciri was quiet for a long moment. “Do you think he’ll stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop pushing away the people close to him?” Ciri glanced over at Jaskier. “That’s why you stopped traveling with him, isn’t it? He hurt you, too.”

“Yes,” Jaskier sighs, “he did. But I think he’s trying to be better.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s being kind to Lilura; he went looking for you.” Jaskier glanceed to where Lilura was padding next to Geralt and Roach. The witcher and his daemon were still tentative, careful around each other, but the wounds were starting to heal.

Ciri hummed consideringly but fell silent. 

Jaskier could only hope that he was correct in his assessment. Ciri had already lost so much; he couldn’t bear the thought that Geralt might let her get close only to push her away again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from “The Loneliness Waltz” by Ballroom Thieves  
> "I wondered why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing." is borrowed from B99 because the Holt vs Wuntch rivalry is also extremely good for Jaskier and Yennefer.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> I have the final few chapters of this written, we are almost at the end. I do want to play in this verse more though so if you have any prompts/characters/events you would like to see please let me know here or on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Daemon Key:  
> Triss' daemon is a [southern masked weaver](https://s3.amazonaws.com/media.jungledragon.com/images/2011/25918_medium.JPG?AWSAccessKeyId=05GMT0V3GWVNE7GGM1R2&Expires=1593043210&Signature=Lhm7AOhCc30O19FQ12MzfYDlXTU%3D)


	12. aching to be a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are discussed.

Yennefer and Geralt seemed to be getting along better, which was good; really, Jaskier was glad. There was less tension now, though both Lambert and Ciri still seemed wary of the sorceress. 

So it was fine.

“You’re sulking,” Sol observed. Jaskier ignored him, picking out a tune on his lute.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sol muttered. “You should just talk to Geralt.”

Jaskier flattened his fingers across the strings, abruptly cutting off the notes he had strummed. “Leave it, Sol.”

Sol ruffled his feathers in irritation. “No. I’m sick of this.”

Jaskier glared at him.

“You’re being a self-sacrificing  _ idiot,”  _ Sol hissed, “again.”

“What would you have me do?” Jaskier snapped.

“Talk to him!” Sol snapped back.

Jaskier let his head thunk back on the tree behind him. “And if he is getting back together with her?”

“Then wouldn’t it be better to know now? Before we are locked in for the winter?”

“Would it change anything?” Jaskier frowned up at the stars, visible through the bare branches above him. “The most important thing would still be making sure Ciri is safe.”

“Maybe not, but I think it would be better to talk now.”

Jaskier didn’t reply.

“Nikifor and Lilura don’t get along,” Solidago observed.

Jaskier just hummed in response. 

**

Lilura sat at the edge of the firelight, one ear tilted back to listen to Ciri and Geralt train, but her gaze was fixed on Sol and Jaskier. They had wandered far enough away that they were mostly out of earshot, saying that they needed the quiet to compose. 

She heard Geralt tell Ciri that they were done for the day, to get some rest. A moment later, quiet footsteps approached her. He sat on the grass beside her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been ignoring Jaskier.”

Geralt frowned. “I’ve been trying to give him space.”

Lilura turned to look at him. “Why?”

Geralt shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “Thought he must want that. He’s not normally”—he ran a hand through his hair—“shy. I didn’t really,” he stopped for a moment. Lilura was patient; she could feel his frustration—the bond between them had been growing strong again with the time spent together, but she still couldn’t read him as well as she once did.

“I didn’t give him much choice about leaving Oxenfurt. About traveling with me again. I thought things might go back to normal, but…”

Lilura snorted derisively. “You’re an idiot.”

Geralt glared at her and opened his mouth to respond, but Lilura cut him off, “No. Listen to me. He thinks he’s giving you the space you need. Either from him  _ or  _ to fix your relationship with Yennefer.”

“Yen and I”—Geralt waved a hand—“we’re never going to be more than friends. It’s not what either of us want.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Lilura said, growing exasperated, “but does he?” 

Geralt’s silence was answer enough.

“You apologized for the mountain, but how many times before that did you drive Jaskier away when you wanted to spend time with Yennefer? Maybe not as cruelly as you did on the mountain, but still.” Geralt frowned as he considered this. Lilura stood. “Something to think about. I’m going to bring him back to camp.”

**

Jaskier closed his notebook. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Geralt and Lambert exchange a glance. Lambert nodded, poking at the fire with a stick. Geralt crossed the fire to where Jaskier was sitting. “Can we... walk?”

Jaskier blinked up at him, startled for a moment. He glanced around. Ciri and Yennefer were both asleep, and clearly Lambert was planning to stay up for a while, so they would be safe. 

“Uh, sure?” Jaskier said, moving Solidago onto his shoulder and standing. Geralt nodded once and turned to walk away from the camp. Jaskier glanced to Lilura, but she just huffed and trotted after Geralt.

“Okay then,” Jaskier whispered to Sol and trailed after Geralt. 

The moon was almost full, so Jaskier was able to see well enough. They walked in silence for almost ten minutes before they reached a clearing with a stream running through the middle. The moonlight shining on Geralt’s hair and Lilura’s fur made them look ethereal, untouchable.

Geralt stopped and turned to face him. The light was enough that Jaskier could see his face, but he couldn’t read the expression he found there. 

“So,” Jaskier started, uncomfortable in the silence, but not sure what to say. 

“I think we need to”—Geralt grimaced—“talk.”

Jaskier giggled, a little hysterically.

Geralt snorted. “You know I’m not good at this.”

“Oh yes.” Jaskier closed the distance between them, so they were standing side by side, looking at the moon’s reflection dancing on the water. “I certainly do.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

Jaskier glanced up at Geralt. “I’m just… not sure how to go back to normal. To the way things were”—he waved a hand, not sure how to convey the scope of the changes—the mountain, the war,  _ Cirilla and Art _ — _ “ _ before.”

“What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were?” Geralt asked, voice low.

Jaskier stared at him, wide-eyed, unsure of what he was saying.

“Geralt,” Lilura hissed, “you have to know that sounds bad.”

“I’m not good at  _ this _ ,” Geralt repeated, this time with more intensity. He glared at Lilura, then glanced at Jaskier and away again, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon. “So just. Don’t say anything for a minute. I’ve never had to, never  _ wanted  _ to…”

Jaskier nodded, mimed locking his lips shut, hoping to relieve some of the tension. Geralt rolled his eyes, so it had probably worked.

“I—” Geralt’s face scrunched adorably as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Oh  _ fuck  _ it,” he said with feeling and stepped in front of Jaskier. He met his gaze for a single endless moment and then wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him against Geralt and leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips. It was over in a second, but it left Jaskier’s heart racing.

“I, um, what?” Jaskier gasped.

“Hm,” Geralt said, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s. “So much for your skill with words.”

“Oh, rude,” Jaskier whispered but didn’t move away.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered. Jaskier pulled back slightly so he could meet Geralt’s eyes. “Jaskier,” Geralt said again, reaching down to take one of his hands, “I love you.”

Jaskier tried to suppress a smile, “Hm.”

Geralt glowered at him. Jaskier laughed, bright and joyful, before stealing another kiss.

“I love you too,” Jaskier said softly. “Of course I do.”

Geralt let out a pleased hum. 

Solidago jumped from Jaskier’s shoulder to perch on Lilura’s instead. The movement was enough to distract Jaskier for a moment, long enough to think about anything other than the feel of Geralt so close.

“What about Yennefer?” Jaskier asked, hating himself a little for the question. 

Geralt moved away slightly but kept holding Jaskier’s hand.

“Right. The talking.” 

Lilura huffed in amusement. “I tried to tell him to explain things first.”

“Oh shush,” Geralt told her. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I’m not helping?” Lilura said. “Who told you to actually do something other than moping about?” 

Geralt growled playfully at her, dropping Jaskier’s hand to tackle the wolf. Solidago fluttered away with an outraged squawk as the two started to wrestle. 

Jaskier grinned at them, watching as the two played. Something he never imagined he would see—the two of them comfortable enough to tease and joke with each other. Jaskier took a seat on the bank, well out of the way. Solidago flew over to perch on his knee.

“This is so much more than I could have hoped for,” Jaskier said, stroking Sol’s head. 

After a few more minutes, Lilura and Geralt both flopped onto the ground next to Jaskier. Jaskier guided Geralt to put his head in his lap so that Jaskier could reach his hair.

“Yennefer and I are better as friends,” Geralt said, answering his earlier question. “What we had beyond that, it wasn’t what either of us really needed.”

Jaskier hummed in response, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair, smoothing out the tangles.

“And Jaskier?” 

“Yes?”

“I promise, I’ll do better. I might not always be good at dealing with emotions, but I don’t want to take them out on other people like I did with you. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again, but I swear, I’m going to try to do better.”

“That’s all any of us can do,” Jaskier said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll bite you if you act like an ass,” Lilura offered.

“Hm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from “The Ruse & the Caper” by Coyote Theory
> 
> Thank you all for for the comments & kudos! I really love hearing from you all!
> 
> Just one chapter left for this story. I have a few ideas I'm playing around with but I would love to hear if there is anything else you want to see in this verse!   
> Say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	13. an ember that grows to a fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final path to reach Kaer Morhen and safety.

Lilura loped ahead of the pack, making sure the path was clear enough for the horses. Occasionally, she would circle back, make sure that everyone was staying close. She knew all but the witchers were tiring, not used to the mountain path. She wished they could slow, rest for a while, for Cirilla’s sake if nothing else, but she could smell the storm rolling towards them. The change in the air that signalled snow. The path was tricky enough now; if it snowed, it would be almost impossible. 

They were close, though. She was sure of it. It had been years since she had last followed this path, but she knew the way as well as any of the witchers. Could feel it in everything she was. A sense of dread colder than the mountain air filled her as she continued to climb. 

“It will be alright,” Geralt said.

Lilura whirled around. She hadn’t heard him come up, his footsteps drowned by the howling wind. 

“You won’t be parted from me again,” Geralt said, voice steady and firm. “Not unless you wish to be.”

“Thank you,” Lilura murmured, pressing against his leg, feeling the warmth of him. The reassuring presence and solidity.

And then they heard the scream.

“Go!” Geralt shouted at her, starting to run himself. Lilura could move faster than him; sure-footed and swift, she darted past, racing towards the sound of shouting. 

Rounding the corner, she saw a basilisk standing between her and the rest of her pack and a second circling above the group. Lambert was advancing on the one standing on the path, while Solidago and Artaxias worried at the one in the air, trying to keep it too distracted to dive. As she took in the scene, Nikifor dove down on the basilisk in the air—he didn’t have the agility of the other two, but he was putting his size to good use. 

Lilura sprang onto the back of the monster standing on the path, biting through the scales on its neck. It shrieked and staggered back, giving Lambert more room to maneuver. Geralt arrived a moment later. 

“Lil, move!” Geralt shouted.

Lilura released the basilisk, darting past a clawed forearm to check on Jaskier and Ciri. Geralt blasted the basilisk with igni at the same time that Lambert sliced through a wing. The monster stumbled back from the fire and fell over the edge of the cliff. 

Lilura found Jaskier and Ciri pressed under a slight overhang, protected from any attacks from above. Jaskier stood in front of Ciri, dagger in hand, as they both watched the second basilisk. The bird daemons noticed the fall of the other monster and moved to clear the path for the witchers to deal with the second attacker. For a moment, it seemed as though the battle was as good as won, and then the lashing tail caught Solidago, sending him hurtling into the cliff face above them. Jaskier slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Lilura felt her heart skip a beat—how  _ far  _ could humans be from their daemon? 

Lilura lept upwards. She couldn’t waste time wondering, desperate to find Solidago, to find him and not a scattering of golden ashes. As she moved, Cirilla  _ screamed.  _ The pure primal force of it made the ground tremble. The horses whinnied with fear, and the basilisk  _ dropped  _ through the air like a lead weight.  Lilura didn’t have time for any of that; she could only think about finding Sol. She heard the silence that fell after Ciri’s scream. Then, Geralt’s horrified shouting as he found Jaskier. 

A few terrible desperate  moments later , Lilura found Sol. He was crumpled on a small ledge. One of his wings was broken, but he was  _ breathing.  _ She could hear his trembling heart rate and felt herself relax slightly. 

She couldn’t safely move Sol, though; she had no way to carry him down without risking further injury. She let out a short howl, knowing that Geralt would come, and then carefully curled herself around the magpie.

Geralt reached her a few minutes later. “Jaskier’s still unconscious.”

Lilura sighed , “Sol’s wing is broken. I’m not sure how else he might be injured, but we need to move him back to Jaskier. 

Geralt  adjusted the gloves on his hands before he carefully picked up Solidago. Even with gloves on, it felt inappropriate,  _ wrong  _ to be touching Jaskier’s daemon, but they had no other choice. They were farther apart than could be good for either of them. Carefully, Lilura led the way back to the rest of the pack. Geralt placed Solidago onto Jaskier’s chest before picking them both up and starting to trudge up the mountain. He was silent and grim, trying not to give in to the panic they were all feeling. The rest of the group was quiet, shocked. Lambert was the next to move, grabbing Pegasus’s reins and clucking to Roach to follow as well. 

Lilura turned to Ciri. “Come along pup,” she urged, pressing her nose to Artaxias’ head. The younger daemon had shifted into the form of a mountain lion and was hunched in on himself.

“Will he be okay?” Ciri whispered.

“Sol went so far away,” Art added, voice strained.

“Don’t worry,” Lilura said. “Jaskier and Sol will be okay.” She wasn’t sure of that, but she needed the pups to move, needed to get them to safety. 

Ciri nodded, face determined. She mounted her horse and set off after the rest. Lilura brought up the rear, now too focused on making sure they arrived without further incident to worry about what lay beyond the gates.

**

Jaskier woke with a warm weight on his chest, fur tickling his neck. Unthinking, he reached a hand up to touch. A pleased huff made him pause. He opened his eyes, blinking in the dim light. His hand was resting on Lilura’s head. He almost moved away, but she whuffed and pressed her cheek into his hand. 

“Here.” Geralt moved into his line of sight, helping Jaskier to sit up slightly and drink some water. 

“What happened?” Jaskier whispered, voice horse.

“Basilisks suck,” Sol grumbled. He was sitting on the pillow next to Jaskier, one wing carefully wrapped and splinted. 

“Oh darling,” Jaskier said, running a finger over Sol’s head, “you were so brave.”

“You both were,” Geralt rumbled, carefully taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“But be more careful,” Lilura growled. “We were so worried. We thought Sol had— We thought we would lose you.”

“It would take more than that to get rid of us now,” Jaskier said, scratching at Lilura’s ear. 

Geralt rumbled a pleased noise, and Jaskier froze, realizing suddenly what he was doing.

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked quietly.

Geralt’s eyes met his, warm in the dim light. “More than.”

“Mm, good,” Jaskier sighed, relaxing into the pillows. “C’mere,” he added. “Too sore to move.”

Geralt complied, settling on the bed next to Jaskier and wrapping an arm around his waist. Lilura shifted so that she lay on Jaskier’s other side, keeping her head on his chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Sol moved, muttering complaints under his breath about his wing, until he was close enough that he could peck Geralt’s fingers.

“Demanding little thing,” Geralt snarked, but he did reach out and gently ran his fingers over Sol’s head.

Jaskier felt a rush of warmth and happiness at the contact, a sense of safety, comfort, and  _ love.  _ It was perfect. Or, almost perfect.

The door opened a crack. Jaskier couldn’t see who it was from his angle, but Geralt moved slightly. “Come in. He's awake.”

Ciri and Art rushed into the room, only stopping when they reached the bed.

“Are you okay?” Art asked, fluttering anxiously around Ciri’s head.

“We are,” Jaskier assured them. “Come here,” he added when they still looked anxious.

A few minutes of careful shuffling later, Ciri and Art were curled up next to him. Jaskier smiled, relaxed and content now that his whole flock, their pack, was together and safe. There was more to come, he knew; their story was far from over, but they would have the winter to rest and heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "Run Wild” by Laney Jones  
> We've reached the end - I really hope y'all enjoyed this!
> 
> Thank you all for your support of this fic - it really means a lot and has helped me feel motivated to keep writing fics for the first time in ages so thank you all <3
> 
> If you are interested in seeing more in this verse send me a message on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/) (or just drop by to say hi!


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